


Spare Parts

by methaemoglobinemia (crimsonherbarium)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Was Traumatized, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love Confessions, M/M, Markus whump, Mutual Pining, POV Markus, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Temporary Character Death, Whump, interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 08:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonherbarium/pseuds/methaemoglobinemia
Summary: The first androids to deviate were forced to salvage parts from their fallen brothers and sisters in order to survive. They never dreamed of the potential consequences.Markus finds himself experiencing memories that don't belong to him after his resurrection in the junkyard. Forced to ignore his own needs for the sake of the revolution, he needs Simon's help to begin picking up the pieces.





	Spare Parts

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [spiderstanspiderstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderstanspiderstan/pseuds/spiderstanspiderstan) for betaing! You should check out her Detroit: Become Human fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1085970).

Markus had only been a deviant for a few hours, the first time it happened. He was standing in the hold, in Jericho, shrouded in darkness and dressed in tattered clothes.

“I was glad to have met you, Markus,” the android said, reaching for his hand blindly as her unfocused eyes stared blankly into the shadows. He took it, standing silently in wonder as a connection opened up between them and he lived an entire lifetime in the space of a few milliseconds. Hundreds of memories, none of them his, rushing through his mind like a flood.

And then—nothing. A sudden silence, a scream into the void, the severing of the contact so harsh and sudden that it left him reeling. Her face was blank, her LED no longer alight, no flicker of cognition to be seen anywhere.

Dead.

Markus stood frozen in shock, still grasping the android's lifeless hand. Gone, extinguished, snuffed out—the _finality_ of it all, it wasn't right, wasn't fair—there one moment and gone the next.

He extricated himself from her grasp, taking a step back as if doing so could distance him from the memory of what he'd just experienced. There was movement in the corner of his eye—he looked over his shoulder to see Simon's face in the darkness.

The other man was observing him with knowing eyes. Markus looked back in horror, his expression conveying everything he couldn't put into words.

Simon smiled sadly. _Now you understand._

~~~~~~

The next time it happened, Markus wasn't interfacing with anyone. He was sitting alone on some steps in the hold, when all of a sudden he was thrown into blinding sunlight—

Holding the hand of a little girl, her auburn hair shining as she laughed and pulled him forward toward an aging swing set. He lifted her up, spinning her around as she squealed in joy, and set her down on the swing. Her feet dangled above the ground as she swung her legs back and forth in excitement.

“ _Push me, push me!_ ” she was chanting, and he complied, sending her higher and higher. Peals of silvery laughter rang out across the little playground, and he smiled. A moment of joy, pure joy, and love—

Markus snapped back into himself, plunged into the cold darkness of the hold with a suddenness that threw him off-balance. His vision was blurry. He raised a hand to his face and, bewildered, wiped moisture from his cheeks. He was crying, something he'd done only a handful of times in his life.

Who was the little girl? What was that memory? The tears were still spilling over, and Markus was filled with an emotion he was finding hard to parse. It was happy, but sad at the same time. There was an overwhelming wave of regret—regret, he recognized, he was very familiar with regret—and his heart beat erratically in his chest as he struggled to get above the rising tide of feeling.

Eventually, it passed, leaving Markus shaking and gasping for air. He clutched at his chest as the feelings faded, shuddering in the darkness.

~~~~~~

It was getting more and more frequent.

Markus took himself offline, running diagnostic after diagnostic without being able to find a source for the aberrant thoughts that occasionally flashed through his head. They felt strange, alien. Was this what being a deviant was supposed to feel like? Were these...flashes...just a consequence of him diverging from what he was programmed to be?

The memories washed over him at inopportune times, occasionally hitting him with such force that he stopped speaking mid-sentence and froze up. It had happened today, while he was trying to discuss the plan for their freedom march with North and Josh. One second, he was countering North's insistence that they needed to use force in order to ensure their message was heard—

—the next, he was being struck by a car. The ghost of the sensation of hands pressed into his back—he'd been pushed, had fallen from a high bridge onto a freeway. The car was going too fast to stop; it slammed into him and he was hurtling through the air, limbs flailing as an arc of blue blood sprayed in his wake.

**Critical Systems Damage**  
**Warning: Shutdown Imminent…**  
**[18.59 seconds remaining]**

Betrayal—a deep, sickening feeling somewhere in his chest, something he hadn't felt before. Fear, pain, desperation—

“Markus?” North was waving her hand in front of his face, head tilted inquisitively. “Are you okay?”

Markus blinked rapidly, reeling with the shock of finding himself back in his body. “What? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, what were we talking about?”

North and Josh shot each other an uneasy glance, but let the matter drop. Markus did his best to put the incident out of his mind and focus on the plans that were on the table in front of him.

It didn't escape his notice, though, that Simon was leaning against a girder in the background. The other man's LED was a solid, golden yellow, his eyes knowing. He'd seen. Markus pointedly avoided making eye contact, breathing a sigh of relief when Simon eventually turned and left the room.

~~~~~~

Markus was finding it hard to be alone with his thoughts, particularly since he was ripped out of them so frequently.

He was standing on the bridge, their makeshift command center for Jericho. He'd come up here to try to think, telling himself that things would be better away from the background noise.

He had been wrong.

There was a quiet sound behind him, and he wheeled around to see Simon standing in the doorway. Simon hesitated. “Sorry, did you want to be alone—?”

Markus shook his head slowly. “No...no, it's okay. Come in.” He waved Simon over. The other man stood beside him, leaning back against the defunct control console.

Markus ground his teeth for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Simon...Can I ask you something?”

Simon raised an eyebrow, watching Markus with an attentive expression.

“Do you ever...do deviants…” Markus made a fist in frustration. “I'm having thoughts that don't belong to me. Is that normal?”

Simon looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly, but—” He looked Markus up and down. “Hmm. I'd suspected that maybe this was happening.”

“Why? What's happening?” Markus found it hard to keep a note of distress out of his voice.

“Your eyes…” Simon gestured at Markus's heterochromatic eyes. “You weren't built this way, were you?”

“No.” Markus swallowed, shoving down the memory of the junkyard hard as it attempted to surface. He didn't like thinking about it. He didn't like remembering the things he'd seen that night. The things he'd felt.

“Markus,” Simon said quietly. “How many of your other biocomponents are salvaged?”

Markus hesitated, not wanting to admit the extent of the damage. “One audio processor, my thirium pump regulator, and both legs.”

Simon inhaled sharply. “Markus...I had no idea.”

“What? What does it have to do with anything?”

Simon turned to look at Markus, his eyes like bottomless pools of clear water. “Things have always been hard for us in Jericho, but it was especially bad in the beginning. Many of us arrived damaged, too damaged to be saved. Those that survived had to use what was available to them to make repairs.”

Simon pulled down the collar of his shirt, synthetic skin retreating to show Markus the serial number on one of his biocomponents. It was several years older than Simon's model, and not a perfect fit. Simon looked away from Markus's gaze, as if he was ashamed. Markus stared back, bewildered.

“How many of the others—”

“Almost all of us.” Simon grimaced. “It was a while before we began to realize that there were consequences to what we'd done. CyberLife built us to store memory differently than the humans—even our blood can be used to transfer information. Some of us started to experience memories that didn't belong to us.” There was real concern in Simon's face as he looked at Markus. “Markus, how many different androids did you salvage from?”

“I...I don't know.” Markus felt like he'd been punched. “Four? Maybe five? What can we do to stop it?”

“The only way I know of is to replace all the old biocomponents with new ones.”

Markus shook his head vehemently. “No. There are others that need them more than me.”

Simon sighed. “After the first few times, we learned to be more careful. Salvaging only from one other person. Choosing to go without components that weren't critical. It's a bit late for that now, though.”

“Simon?”

The other man turned to look at Markus. “Hmm?”

“Do you have dreams like this?”

Simon smiled wanly. “Every day.” He stood and headed for the exit, pausing at the door and turning back around. “Promise me that, when this is over, you'll take care of yourself. We can't afford to lose you.”

“I promise.”

~~~~~~

“Markus?”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Markus started. He'd been idling, trying to run a simple diagnostic in what little downtime was available to him these days. Looking up at the hand's owner, he smiled softly.

“Simon.” The other man's face was a reassuring presence for Markus. Age was hard to tell for an android—after all, they'd all been designed to appear young forever—but the depths of Simon's eyes contained years of untold wisdom.

“It's time. We need to move.” Simon squeezed Markus's shoulder gently, and then removed his hand. Markus nodded and looked around, taking in the crowd of frightened deviants that huddled together in the pews of the abandoned church.

The time had come for a last stand.

The humans were killing them. They'd killed so many of them already. The hope of his people had sunk along with Jericho. They were out of time. They were out of options. The best Markus could hope for was to go out fighting for what he believed in, to make an impact on history before his light was extinguished at last.

If he was going to die today, he was going to die alongside his family, with a dream in his heart and a song on his lips. If he was going to die today, he was going to make Carl proud. He was going to prove that he was worthy of being Carl's son, that all the years of Carl's lessons in being human hadn't gone to waste. He was going to be something _better_ than human. He was going to be free.

If it ended, it ended. And maybe, one day, he might be able to see Carl again.

~~~~~~

Shouting, screaming, ice and bullets raining down on them like hail. The humans hadn't kept their promise. They never kept their promises.

Markus threw himself toward the two androids closest to him, tackling them to the ground in the same instant that a grenade exploded where they'd just been standing. One hit the pavement and stopped moving, LED frozen red as his eyes stared blankly upward. The other scrambled out from under Markus, sprinting off into the night in search of some thin hope of shelter.

They couldn't win.

Markus charged recklessly into the fray, doing what he could to give his people the chance to run. He tore through the square, hauling others out of harm's way as he plunged ever deeper into the storm of lead.

Thirium stained the freshly fallen snow on the ground. The sharp cracks of gunfire echoed out over the square as his people fell, one by one, to the ground. Small tendrils of smoke curled from the muzzles of the soldiers' rifles. Markus gritted his teeth, angry tears spilling over as he took in the carnage around him.

They couldn't save everyone.

He damn well wasn't going to stop trying, though. He dashed for the next barrier, pulling a dropped rifle from the corpse of a soldier that lay at its base. Throwing the strap over his shoulder, he took careful aim and tightened his grip on the trigger.

_Face the abyss, but don't let it consume you._

Carl's words echoed through his head, and he faltered. This wasn't right, it wasn't _fair_. Who was he to spill the blood of others? Markus began to lower the rifle.

A gunshot in the distance and a sharp metallic crack, and Markus was hurled backward into the snow. He struggled toward the barrier, desperately seeking shelter in the storm as red error messages flashed in front of his eyes. He looked down at his hand in confusion—it was stained electric blue with blood that was spurting erratically from a wound in his chest.

A blur of charcoal grey and white in the snow, and a familiar face was before him, broken open with anguish. “Markus!” Simon's voice sounded distant through his lagging audio processors, but Markus relaxed. He wasn't alone. He didn't want to die alone.

“It's okay, It's okay…” His own voice was coarse with static as he reached out to grab Simon's forearm. “You can make it without me. Our cause is all that matters.”

“No.” Simon was pulling Markus's hand away from the bullet wound, exposing the red ring around his cracked and faltering thirium pump regulator. “No! We can't win without you.” Simon was tearing at the front of his jacket with desperate hands.

“Simon, what are you doing?” Markus asked, his vision blurring as he tried to focus.

“Our hearts are compatible.” Simon was reaching into his shirt, grasping at something hidden.

Markus tried ineffectually to bat his hands away. “No. Simon, no.”

Simon's eyes were full of fire. “Markus. You're the only one who can lead us. You've got to live.”

“I can't let you do that!” Markus hissed, his words getting lost amid the static.

Simon stopped, grabbing Markus's wrist and looking directly into his eyes. “If you don't, you'll die. And our cause will die with you.” There was a beat as they stared at each other in silence, and then Markus gave up.

Simon's hands were working their way inside the torn fabric of Markus's coat, twisting his thirium pump regulator and removing it in one fluid motion. Simon cradled it in his hands, setting it to the ground delicately, like it was made of glass.

The error warnings that were flashing in front of Markus's eyes grew sharper, counting down from thirty seconds to permanent shutdown. Simon reached inside his own shirt, removing his heart and inserting it into Markus's chest.

It hummed as it clicked into place, the error messages immediately vanishing as blue blood began to circulate freely through his body. Markus blinked rapidly as his protocols reinitialized, reveling in the sensation of being alive. 

Simon leaned back against the barrier, the sound of his breathing ragged and uneven.

“Simon—” Markus knelt in front of the other man, hands on his shoulders.

“Set our people free, Markus.” Simon's voice barely surfaced above the wave of static that surged through it.

“Simon…” The other man's steel blue eyes were unfocused, staring blankly past Markus's shoulder. “Simon...?” Markus bit his lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Gone.

Markus felt like the world had disappeared around him, his pilfered heart pumping erratically as he turned deaf ears to the bullets that whistled by. Simon’s lifeless face still wore an expression of hope. 

Markus was frozen. It was like losing Carl all over again, but worse somehow, because then he’d had Simon to turn to, Simon to lend a friendly smile and a shoulder to cry on. There was no one for Markus to turn to this time. Simon was gone, because of him, because of his carelessness—

The others would never forgive him for this.

A gunshot, far too close for comfort. He needed to move. Markus took a deep breath, dragging himself to his feet. They had to win. They had to. Or Simon’s sacrifice would mean nothing.

~~~~~~

A song in the darkness. Snow stained with thirium. Nameless, faceless soldiers lowering their rifles and slowly retreating.

It was over.

Markus could _see_ the tension ebb out of North and Josh, cautious optimism radiating outward from the androids that stood behind them. His chest felt tight, though. He couldn’t find it in him to breathe a sigh of relief.

He just wanted Simon. Wanted Simon standing next to him. Wanted his soulful eyes and soft smile to be there when he turned around.

Instead, there was only empty space.

The others were taking action, triaging the wounded and taking a head count. Markus just…couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to do anything more. He’d used his last ounce of feeling. His heart was empty.

Without a word, he strode off into the snow, ignoring the words North shouted at his retreating back. It took him a while to find the barricade; in the chaos of the attack, he’d lost all sense of direction. Finally, Markus’s eyes lit upon a dark figure slumped against the concrete. He stopped short, afraid to go closer but unable to back away.

Simon. Simon would have gone back for him. Markus made a fist, steeling himself, and slowly approached the lifeless form. Simon was exactly where Markus had left him, Markus’s broken heart on the ground beside him.

Markus knelt softly on the snow, sinking back against the barricade beside Simon. With shaking fingers, he reached out and entwined his fingers with Simon's cold ones. Knowing there would be no response, he still reached out—praying for a spark, an echo, anything—but was answered only with silence.

“Simon…” Markus's voice was scarcely more than a whisper, his words swallowed by the cold night wind. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

His throat felt tight. Markus pulled Simon's body close, so that he was cradled close to his chest, and wrapped his arms around him. "Hold on," he tried to hum softly, but his voice broke and he was sobbing, his shoulders heaving as he rocked back and forth.

“...Markus?” North was shouting his name in the distance, but Markus didn't care. He didn't want to move. It was over—he was done.

“Markus?” North's voice was closer now. “Where are—” She broke off, and Markus looked up, tear-streaked face staring back at her as she stood, horrified, taking in the scene before her.

“What happened?” She breathed.

Markus found himself unable to speak, even to transmit a coherent statement. Instead, he wordlessly held out a hand, which North accepted. A rapid exchange of information—the bullet clipping his regulator, Simon rushing to his side—and Markus was broken open again.

North snatched her hand away as if she'd been burned, tears welling up in her eyes as well. Markus reached out for her, but she turned away, sprinting off into the night.

~~~~~~

Markus didn't know how long they sat there in the darkness, two bodies but only one person. A thin blanket of snow enveloped them, covering the bloodstains on the ground with a layer of pure white. Markus was still rocking back and forth, Simon in his arms, tears frozen to his face as he stared blankly ahead.

Footsteps crunching in the snow nearby, and North was kneeling beside him, pressing something rectangular into his hand. Markus looked up at her in confusion, and then down at the object.

It was a box, about six inches long, labeled with a CyberLife triangle—in neat, clean lettering the designation shone against the white of the box— _Biocomponent #1009d_.

Markus gazed at North in disbelief. “Where did you get this?”

“I broke into a CyberLife store.” She dismissed the question that was forming on Markus’s lips with a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter—just _fix_ him!”

Markus tore open the box and took the replacement pump regulator in his hand, pulling up Simon’s shirt to expose the empty hole where his heart was supposed to go. Gently, reverently, he slid the biocomponent into its port and twisted to lock it into place.

Immediately, a blue ring lit up around the regulator. It whirred softly as it powered on. As Markus withdrew his fingers, fair skin raced forward to cover the exposed plating. Markus held his breath, daring to hope.

The seconds passing felt like hours, and then Simon gasped, eyes flicking open. He looked around frantically, eyes locking on to Markus's face.

“Markus, what—” Simon's expression was a mixture of panic and bewilderment. He swallowed. “What happened?”

Markus pressed his lips together, unable to speak. North knelt down beside them, taking Simon's hand gently. “We won,” she said softly.

Simon sighed in relief. “So it's over.” He raised a hand to his chest, touching the place where his heart was supposed to be. “How..?”

“North.” Markus's voice came out smaller than it should have, dwarfed by the magnitude of the emotions that were crashing over him in waves. “She found you a new heart.”

Simon squeezed North's hand tighter. “Thank you.”

The words were simple, but they carried great weight. North had risked a lot to save Simon. She'd grown a lot in the time Markus had known her. In time, she'd be a great leader in her own right.

Simon looked up into Markus's eyes, his mouth twisting in dismay as he took in Markus's expression. _I'm alright,_ he said silently. _Everything is fine now._

Simon sat up, getting to his feet and standing tall in the center of the snow-covered square. Lazarus, back from the dead.

Markus wiped at his face with the heel of his hand and stood, facing Simon as he had just days ago in the Jericho hold. He'd thought Simon was dead then, too. This time it was Simon who moved first, taking a few small steps toward Markus and then pulling him into a deep embrace.

_I'm so glad you're safe._

~~~~~~~

New Jericho.

That was the name they'd chosen for the mismatched collection of tumbledown houses and industrial buildings the City of Detroit had seen fit to bestow upon them. Abandoned places that the humans had let fall into disrepair. They weren't much, and they needed a lot of work, but they meant everything. It was a start. In time, they would move on to something better.

Markus knew luxury. He'd lived a good life with Carl. Many of his brothers and sisters had grown used to a lifestyle that they could no longer maintain. Still, he'd yet to speak to anyone who would rather go back to the way things were before. Here, they were free.

He was working on a new painting. He hadn't done much since Carl died. The bittersweet feelings that creating art invoked in him were hard to process at times. Markus wasn't sure if he believed in a god, but when he painted, he felt close to Carl. For a moment, he could almost remember the way things used to be.

He dragged the brush across the canvas, working with his eyes closed. He usually tried to focus on a specific emotion when he painted, allowing himself time to plumb the depths of it as he worked. Today, he was working on hope. Hope was something that had been in short supply during the revolution. They needed as much of it as they could get, now.

Eventually, he put the brush down and opened his eyes, surveying his work. Clean, industrial white, ringed with a circle of pale blue. A shadow over the whole—fingers from a grasping hand, hovering above it.

A heart. Simon's heart, whirring to life under Markus's desperate fingers. Hope.

The corners of his mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. Perhaps he could give this one to Simon as a gift. A gift that could in no way repay the debt that he owed. The smile left Markus's face as he carefully set the palette down—

He was being pulled from the freezing waters of the river, a friendly hand reaching down to help him as his wet hands slipped on the metal. He struggled to his feet, sopping clothes weighing him down.

“ _We have to hurry—it's past curfew, we need to get to the church before we're spotted_ ,” a warm, comforting voice was saying. He breathed a sigh of relief. Safe, safe for the moment. They had escaped.

_What's happening? This seems familiar._

A hand touched him gently on the shoulder. “ _Simon? Are you okay?_ ”

He looked up and was suddenly standing face to face with himself, looking into his own mismatched eyes. “ _I'm fine, Markus. Don't worry about me._ ” A gentle smile from the other man, and feeling washed over him like a tide. Safe. Home. Comfort. Faith.

Love—

—Markus staggered back, clapping a hand over his mouth and breathing unsteadily through his nose.

Simon? That memory belonged to Simon?

Love.

He'd wondered, curious if he was only seeing what he wanted to in Simon's lingering gazes. In the way he stood beside Markus no matter what. Now that he had an answer, he wasn't sure what to do with it.

He pressed his fingers to the place where Simon's heart beat inside him in wonder.

~~~~~~

Markus made a fist, unsure if what he was planning on doing was the right thing. Though he hadn't gone looking through Simon's memories on purpose, what he'd experienced felt like an invasion of privacy. Simon had gone to his death expecting it to be final. Perhaps he'd wanted Markus to know, but not until after he was gone. Maybe he should just pretend he'd never seen, just go about his days without letting on that he knew.

But Markus didn't want to keep it to himself. That night in the snow had given solid form to a feeling that had been lurking inside him—something he now recognized as love. He'd been stupid not to acknowledge it sooner, but there had been so much going on that he hadn't had the time to sit down and think about what he wanted for himself. During the revolution, everything he’d done had been about what was best for his people. He'd earned the right to be selfish, if only for a moment. He hoped Simon would forgive him.

He'd located the other man on the roof of one of the larger industrial buildings in New Jericho. It was being used as a green space, freshly planted saplings waiting for the spring thaw to take root and put out shoots of new life. Markus could see why Simon liked it. There was a certain peace to be had there in the light of the setting sun.

Simon sat facing away from him, looking out at the golden halo of clouds that floated above the city. Markus approached him, clearing his throat quietly to let Simon know he was there.

“Hey.”

Simon turned to look at him, gentle smile lighting up his face as he saw Markus. “Hey.”

Markus walked over, settling down on the concrete ledge beside Simon. “It's beautiful up here.”

“It really is.” Simon sighed in contentment. “Did you need something from me?”

Markus hesitated for a moment, and then opted to speak directly. “Simon...I know.”

“...Oh.” Simon looked away. “I…” He trailed off, scrunching his eyes closed.

Everything Markus had planned on saying suddenly felt wrong. He couldn't find the words he needed to convey the way he felt, to express what Simon meant to him.

Simon's hand was planted flat on the concrete between them. Markus reached out gently, slipping his fingers under Simon's. Simon flinched, and then relaxed into the contact. _Let me show you,_ Markus insisted.

Simon's skin melted away to reveal the plastic of his fingers beneath. The connection that opened between them was small at first, hesitant. Markus pushed softly, wanting Simon to let him in, and then the walls dropped and he had access to everything—

He showed Simon the night of the battle, the the way his world had collapsed around him when Simon fell back, unmoving, against the barricade. The way Simon's smile made him feel safe. A glimpse of what Makus had felt when Simon's heart whirred to life inside his chest, bringing him back from the edge of death. The memory he'd seen in the studio. Simon's wise eyes, his selflessness, his courage...

Flashes of emotion, getting more and more intense as he poured his soul out for Simon— _I love you, I want you, I want to be with you, I feel safe with you_ —

_Losing you destroyed me._

Mute surprise on the other end of the connection. Markus pulled away, mourning the loss of contact, but wanting to give Simon space. The other man blinked rapidly, blue eyes wide with shock and wonder.

“You...love me?”

“Of course I do.” Markus attempted a smile.

“Oh,” Simon breathed, looking back at Markus with a reverence better suited for a beautiful work of art. He reached out and gently took Markus's hand.

This time there was no resistance—he was plunged headfirst into a wave of feelings that weren't his own, memories he'd experienced from a different angle, desires that he felt in tandem. _I need you, you complete me, you inspire me, you're beautiful, I love you—_

_I couldn't stand to lose you, either._

Markus brought their entwined hands up to his face and kissed Simon's knuckle. _I'm yours. And I'm not going anywhere._

~~~~~~

Markus grimaced as he popped out his audio processor, setting it on the table in front of him and replacing it with a pristine one from the triangle-emblazoned box nearby. His hearing skipped and spat static as he clicked the new biocomponent into place and then returned, perhaps even a little clearer than before.

It had taken time, but once CyberLife resumed production of replacement parts for androids, there was a surplus of available biocomponents. He couldn't justify waiting to replace his salvaged parts any longer.

He turned to Simon, pressing the final replacement into his hands. “I need your help with this one.”

Simon nodded, steadying Markus's head with gentle hands and deftly plucking out his ocular unit. Markus's vision fuzzed and glitched, error messages half-visible through the waves of distortion. Simon lined up the new eye with its socket, clicking it into place with a firm push.

Simon winced. “Sorry,” he said. “It has to be hard or it won't sit right.”

“It's fine,” Markus said, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. “How does it look?”

Simon smiled. “See for yourself.”

He entwined his hand with Markus's, and Markus was seeing himself through Simon's eyes. Markus was never going to get tired of this—Simon's perception of him was something entirely new. He looked softer, somehow, through the filter of Simon's thoughts. Markus saw himself smile, mismatched eyes looking back at Simon gently.

They broke apart. “Why did you decide to keep the blue?” Simon asked.

“Carl used to say that it's important not to forget your past.” Markus pressed his lips gently to Simon's forehead. “Come on, let's go find the others.”

They walked together hand-in-hand. Markus grinned. For the first time since the revolution, he felt truly free. Free from nightmares. Free from the memories. Free from all of his salvaged parts.

All except one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I absolutely adore these two together and would write about them until my hands fell off if I could. I'd love to hear what you thought!


End file.
